


Forged

by GingerEl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holiday Traditions, M/M, Multi, OT4, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerEl/pseuds/GingerEl
Summary: It was only a few weeks ago when Ignis had turned to him over a dinner to ask about Prompto’s holiday traditions. And of course Prompto had very red very fast, admitting that nothing was traditional for him. Prompto just doesn’t have any warm, enduring happy holiday memories from when he was just a kid.His boyfriend’s don’t like that.Prompto pushes his hand through Noct’s fine hair and is rewarded with a sleepy smile.“So just to be clear,” Prompto says, “This tradition is Noct having a nap while Iggy does this tedious task for you?”“No,” Noct insists as Ignis sighs, “Yes.”Prompto snorts.“Iggy likes wrapping, he’s a masochist,” Noct explains.“I do,” Ignis admits, like it’s some dark secret, “I really, really do.”Prompto preemptively measures out a piece of tape for him and says, “Me too, Igster.”“I knew you were my favourite for a reason,” Ignis teases.Alternatively: Prompto’s never really had good Solstice holidays before so he doesn’t have any of his own traditions. His boyfriend’s set out to make that different.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 13
Kudos: 114
Collections: FFXV Secret Santa 2020





	Forged

**Author's Note:**

> For [AnkosArt](https://twitter.com/ankosart)! Happy Christmas. I hope you enjoy this little holiday story and that your own Christmas is everything you could want it to be!
> 
> One of their requests was the boys enjoying my favourite holiday traditions and it inspired me to create this!

December 1st falls on a Saturday this year - Prompto’s _one_ whole day off - and yet it’s barely eight o’clock in the morning when Iggy is gently shaking him away with a low murmur, long fingers pulling through the mess of his hair.

“No,” Prompto whines and Ignis chuckles, voice completely free from sleep and Prompto probably would have turned his face into the soft pillow were it not for the gentle brush of lips between his eyebrows.

“We’ve got to make the Solstice cake, Darling. You said you wanted to help,” Ignis says.

Prompto groans, “Solstice is still the whole _month_ away Iggy, it’s too soon to make the cake.”

“Not this one,” Ignis says confidently.

Ignis pulls away, getting back up off the bed and Prompto whines again. Ignis pats his thigh through the thick duvet.

“Rise and shine, love. Or I’ll start without you.”

Prompto doesn’t think that’s _actually_ true but he throws back the covers and clambers begrudgingly from the bed. He can’t be bothered to get dressed and he can’t be bothered to deal with his contacts either so he simply pulls on a pair of thick socks to go with his shorts and t-shirt pyjamas - too big so they must be Iggy’s - and shoves his glasses onto his nose, pleased as ever that Ignis keeps his apartment on the warmer side during waking hours.

At least when Prompto is around anyway.

“Tell me why we can’t make this cake at like, I dunno, ten am or something?” Prompto asks, wandering out of the bedroom.

Ignis laughs, beckoning him over to where he’s placing crispy rashers of bacon onto a plate beside scrambled eggs - Prompto’s favourite - and a short stack of hot buttered toast.

“It takes a long time to cook,” Ignis says simply, “And I’m dropping you and Noct off at the Citadel shortly after lunch. I wanted us not to have to _rush._ I think you’ll enjoy it, once you’re properly awake.”

Prompto all but flops into his seat, grabbing immediately for a slice of toast and smearing a hearty glob of Iggy’s hand made jam over it.

“I do like being in the kitchen with you,” Prompto admits. Ignis passes his fingers through Prompto’s hair one more time, smoothing out some of the disarray, Prompto’s sure, before taking his own seat.

Iggy’s eggs are sublime, obviously, and between them, the coffee and the sweet jam on his toast Prompto brightens considerably. Ready and raring to get on with his day by the time he’s sliding his plate into the dishwasher even though he kind of feels like he was robbed of _at least_ two hours sleep.

“Okay,” he says, washing his hands before Ignis can even ask him to, “Where do we start?”

“You can weigh out and chop the dried fruit that needs it, I’ll measure out the brandy so it can have a quick soak while we do everything else.”

Prompto wrinkles his nose, “Brandy _.”_

Ignis kisses between his brows again, smile curving his lips in a way that means Prompto would have preferred them pressed against his own instead.

“You’ll barely taste it in the cake I promise,” Ignis says, “Plus it’s _traditional_.”

“Huh,” Prompto concedes.

Because that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

His boyfriends rallying around him to give him a properly _good_ Solstice for the first time in his life, one where he’s not alone and actually gets to _enjoy_ the things he’s only seen on TV or read about in books before now.

It was only a few weeks ago when Ignis had turned to him over a dinner to ask, “What’s traditional for you, darling? So that we can plan accordingly.” And Prompto had gone bright red really fast, forced to admit that _nothing_ was traditional for him. Prompto didn’t have any warm, enduring happy holiday memories from when he was just a kid.

“Well,” Ignis had said simply, sharing a brief glance with Gladio as Noct had snuck his hand into Prompto’s lap to hold his hand, “We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

So yeah, being up at eight o’clock on his day off sucks, but Prompto’s pretty jazzed about the intention behind it.

Ignis spreads an old, battered cookbook between them, opening up to a page with dozens of hand written notes added beside the method and ingredients list.

Prompto weighs out the dried fruits, popping an apricot or two in his mouth as he chops them into smaller pieces wondering if there’s any chance in hell that Noct will _actually_ eat a slice of this thing. Prompto mixes all the fruit together in a large bowl and then Ignis pours over the brandy and some sort of juice that smells sweet and a little sour. Prompto gives it a final stir and pushes it off to one side.

“Now for the fun bit,” Ignis tells him and he’s _right_.

It’s all sugar and spices blended into soft butter and all Prompto can think about is sweet cinnamon and the cheerful holiday song Ignis hums under his breath as they spoon the cake batter into a double-lined cake tin.

-

Prompto can still smell sweet cinnamon when _King Regis_ stirs the cocoa he’s preparing for Prompto, spoon clinking against the edge of the mug. He adds no less than _six_ miniature marshmallows before handing it over with a warm smile.

Noct hadn’t told him they were doing _this;_ that Noct was dragging Prompto along to crash Noct’s sacred and hard to come by time with his father. Maybe Noct knew Prompto would refuse, or at least _try_ to anyway. Prompto has always struggled to tell Noct no.

“I hope you like it,” the King says and Prompto wraps both hands around the mug and cradles it close.

“It smells amazing,” Prompto says.

“Cocoa’s just about the only thing Dad _can_ make,” Noct teases.

King Regis sighs, exasperated but fond, and shoots Prompto a smile.

“Trust Noctis to drag you along to help do his chores,” the King says.

“Noct says he _likes_ doing this,” Prompto blurts, looking between father and son.

Noct groans and King Regis _beams_ , “Does he now?”

“Oops,” Prompto says and Noct shifts them a little closer together on the coach in his Dad’s office, gently nudging Prompto with his elbow.

“Just for that now you have to _help_ ,” Noct says.

“Uh - I don’t think a holiday card signed by me, a nobody, is going to help _anyone_ feel better, dude,” Prompto says, laughing nervously.

“Firstly - shut up,” Noct says and the King _laughs_ , deep in his chest, “Secondly - you can add a little doodle or something in the ones for the kids, I’d do it but I can’t even draw a circle.”

Prompto laughs and when they’ve finished this _first_ cup of cocoa they move over to Regis’ large desk and sit side by side, Regis and Noct writing short messages and their fancy signatures into holiday cards and then passing some of them over to Prompto to doodle little simple Solstice trees and chocobo chick in holiday hats. Whenever Regis stops to shale out his hand he stands and returns to the electric hotplate and makes up another cup.

Prompto’s so full of cocoa he’s not going to need dinner later but he’s warm and happy.

When they leave Prompto says, “Thanks for having me, Regis.” And the King _beams_. Before they meet back up with Ignis at the car Noct laces their fingers together and gives his hand a squeeze.

“I told you Dad was fine,” Noct says, “Will you come again next year?”

Stampeding anaks couldn’t keep him away.

\- - -

Prompto does a morning shift at the diner and when he leaves just after the lunch rush he’s only member of the service team not sick to death of the twelve song playlist of holiday songs looping over and over on the sound system.

Gladio’s waiting for him just outside, leaning against the side of his truck, wearing just a light jacket over his jeans and tank top despite the bitter wind and icy chill. Prompto pulls his hat a little further down over his ears and shivers dramatically as he approaches.

“I’m cold just looking at you, dude,” Prompto teases and Gladio shakes his head, reaching with his hands to cup his already chilled face and pull him in for a brief kiss.

“Dad’s got the fire going,” Gladio says, sheltering Prompto from the wind with his bulk as he helps him into the car, “Manor will be toasty warm.”

Prompto sinks into the seat but leans out and peers up at Gladio before he can shut the door.

“And they _really_ don’t mind that I’m crashing this sacred Amicitia family tradition?”

Gladio shakes his head and gives Prompto’s a playful little shove so he can slam the door shut on him.

-

The Amicitia Manor has the kind of tall ceilings that only _really_ rich people have and Prompto never seen such a tall tree _inside_ anywhere in his entire life.

Expect maybe the mall.

“Wow,” he says aloud and Iris giggles from around the other side of the tree, appearing with her arms full of tangled lights a few seconds later.

She looks up at him with her big eyes just a few shades lighter than Gladio’s and asks, “Will you help me with these? Gladio’s fingers are too fat.”

“Hey!” Gladio cries indignantly.

Clarus laughs, appearing on the stairs holding an a slightly battered cardboard box with uneven and lopsided letters spelling out the word _solstice_ in bright red crayon. Prompto wonders _how_ old the box is and if the clumsy writing is from Gladio or Iris’ hand.

“I put the star on top,” Iris says suddenly as Prompto lifts the lights from her hand, giving them a shake to see if either end falls lose. It does not.

“ _Iris_ ,” Clarus says, “You do it every year, maybe Prompto -”

“Oh no,” Prompto interrupts, “I want Iris to do it. Please, don’t change things on my behalf.”

Clarus smiles at him, squeezing Prompto’s shoulder gently when he’s popped the box down on the ground.

“In that case, Iris you have to help Prompto untangle the lights. As you normally do that too.”

“ _Noooo_ ,” Iris whines but she comes over immediately to help nonetheless.

-

When the lights and the garlands were all up on the tree - Iris says the Amicitia’s are a tinsel _free_ household thank you very much - Prompto asks what he now realises is a silly question.

“How do you get the star on top?”

“I do it,” Iris reminds him without hesitating. Which Prompto already knew. He was wondering _how_.

Prompto glances around the room for a ladder or something but sees _nothing_.

Gladio catches his eye and then puts his hands close together in front of him then lifts them above his head. He nods at his little sister and ah -

Prompto gets it.

Sure enough the moment Prompto hangs the last bauble from a lonely, empty branch Iris is snatching a large shimmering star from the depth of the box and rushing towards Gladio expectantly.

Gladio grabs her securely around the waist, lifting her up, up, _up_ until she can reach out and hook the star over the highest point of the tree, stretching her arms as far as they’ll go. Iris yells triumphantly when it’s on and Gladio shifts her so she’s sat up on his shoulder. Clarus flicks the switch and they come to life in one beautiful, glimmering burst of light.

“Wow,” Prompto murmurs.

Neither Noctis nor Ignis put a tree in their apartment. This is the closest he’s ever been _near_ to an actual Solstice tree, the smell is pleasant and earthy and Prompto reaches to touch some of the almost sharp pine needles once more.

“Do you like it?” Gladio asks, coming close with Iris still up high.

Prompto nods, “I like it a lot.”

\- - -

Prompto squishes a bit of left over marzipan into a _slightly_ lopsided heart and passes it over to Noct with a grin that can _only_ be described as sappy.

Noct takes it and immediately bites into the corner of it, his own face transforming into a grimace immediately. The prince spits the little yellow blob into his palm, looking more disgusted than ever.

“Noct,” Ignis sighs in frustration, arriving with a kitchen towel to take the mess away. Prompto grabs the unchewed marzipan and pops it into his mouth.

“How can you _eat_ that stuff?” Noct asks.

“I _like_ it,” Prompto says.

“Gross,” Noct mutters.

Ignis disappears to dispose of the offending globule, coming back to the table to help dust off some of the extra icing sugar that Prompto had gotten pretty much _everywhere_ while he’d tried to roll the marzipan large and _even_ enough to go over the cake.

“Have you thought about how you want to ice it, darling?”

“Uh, white, I figured?” Prompto says but it _sounds_ like a question.

Ignis chuckles, “Of course, I meant which _type_ of icing.”

“Oh,” Prompto says, eyes wide with _potential_ , “What’s the one where you can mould it into little figures and stuff.”

“I believe you mean fondant,” Ignis says.

“Unless you wanted something more _sophisticated_ ,” Prompto checks, dropping his voice to Iggy’s suave timber.

“Give me a list of colours and I’ll pick everything up for you,” Ignis says, pressing a kiss on his forehead.”

\- - -

For some reason when Noct asked him if he wanted to join him and Iggy while they wrapped their Solstice gifts Prompto actually expected Noct to _do something_.

“No I like the silver bows,” Noct says and Prompto is ever in awe of Iggy’s patience because he pushes his gold ribbons to one side and picks up the silver instead.

“Brat,” Prompto teases and Noct laughs, pushing his head harder into Prompto’s thigh where it’s laying on Prompto’s lap.

Prompto doesn’t have many presents to wrap, just one each for his boyfriends, a nice portrait of Gladio that he’d framed for Clarus and Iris. As such he’d finished long ago even _with_ all the embellishments he’d decided to add. Prompto’s not brave enough to offer something up to the King, not _yet_ anyway. Ignis is barely half way through his own wrapping and Prompto knows that whatever he’s receiving from the two of them is squirrelled away somewhere out of sight.

Prompto pushes his hand through Noct’s fine hair and is rewarded with a sleepy smile.

“Just to be clear,” Prompto says, “ _This_ tradition is Noct having a nap while Iggy does this tedious task for you?”

“No,” Noct insists as Ignis sighs, “Yes.”

Prompto snorts.

“Iggy _likes_ wrapping, he’s a masochist,” Noct explains.

“I do,” Ignis admits, like it’s some dark secret, “I really, _really_ do.”

Prompto pre-emptively measures out a piece of tape for him and says, “Me too, Igster.”

“I knew you were my favourite for a reason,” Ignis teases.

“Hey!” Noct says, full of sleepy but furious indignation.

“Don’t worry,” Prompto says, petting Noct’s hair again, “I won’t tell Gladio.”

Noct pinches him on the thigh but Ignis stands from his seat to walk around and brush a soft kiss across his cheek so Prompto chalks it up to a win.

\- - -

Gladio’s face is all open eagerness and it makes Prompto feel terrible about the fact he just _doesn’t want to do it_.

“Gladio…”

Gladio’s face drops down just a fraction.

“But you love holiday music,” Gladio says, “We can watch them sing and then Noct and Iggy are going to meet us for warm cider and those fried cake things at the Altissian market.”

“Wait - what? _Watch_?”

“Yeah watch,” Gladio says brightening again with a laugh. He pushes into Prompto’s apartment a little more, reaching for Prompto’s scarf and jacket where they’re hanging on their hooks.

“As much as you _love_ to sing,” Gladio says, wrapping the wool around Prompto’s shoulders and tucking him in nice and cosy, “I also know that you don’t really like it when people _hear_ you sing. So we’re witnessing the carolling, and not actually doing it.”

Prompto _beams_ , “That _does_ sound fun. Why aren’t Iggy and Noct coming?”

“Because they’re both big grumpuses that don’t like holiday music.”

Gladio rolls his eyes in a show of irritation that he doesn’t _really_ feel. Prompto knows that Gladio kind of hates holiday songs too, by the time he’s listened to them a few times over. He grabs Prompto’s jacket and holds it out for him to put his arms through, zipping Prompto into it and then delivering a playful kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You okay to walk? Iggy will drive us back later,” Gladio asks, stepping back out onto the street.

Prompto forces a pout and raises one hand, bare despite the fingerless gloves in his coat pocket.

“Will you keep my hand warm while we walk?”

Gladio shakes his head grinning, but takes Prompto’s hand in his own, completely encompassing it and keeping it safe from the icy wind.

-

There’s a few choirs taking turns at singing on the temporary raised platform. Gladio and Prompto arrive in time to catch the end of the middle-school kids belting out a traditional song or two - voices earnest and loud if a _little_ out of tune.

The next group on the stage seem to be high schoolers and Prompto listens happily, the extra few years of practice making for a much better listening experience. Prompto hums along to his favourite ones under his breath, wrapped up in Gladio’s arms with the big guy’s chin resting on his head. Gladio rocks him from side to side a little during the jauntier songs and Prompto giggles until he’s breathless, feeling warm and doted on.

He’s one of the loudest clappers when it’s over, whooping a little as the final choir - matching outfits and woollen hast pulled low over their ears - steps down from the stage, still going even when some of the crowd has already started to disperse.

Gladio gives him one last squeeze and says, “Come on I’m _starving_.”

Iggy and Noct are waiting for them, stood close together with their hands entwined. They’re talking, the quick and rapid back and forth that’s so common between them but they break off when Prompto and Gladio approach. Noct’s grinning as much as he ever actually _grins_ and comes over to Prompto’s side, dragging Iggy with him. He nuzzles his _freezing_ nose right in behind Prompto’s ear and normally Prompto would complain but Noct’s breath is warm against his skin and the affection feels even warmer, like a thick blanket tossed right over his shoulders.

“Did you enjoy yourselves?” Ignis asks, giving Gladio a quick kiss.

“Yeah,” Prompto says eagerly.

“It got better as the performers got older,” Gladio adds as a caveat.

“No! The kids were really cute,” Prompto argues.

“Cute sure,” Gladio concedes, “But kind of toneless.”

“Cider, cider, cider,” Noct chants, “It’s colder than Shiva’s tits out here.”

Noct takes his hand, still holding on to Ignis with the other and Gladio drapes an arm over his shoulders as they turn to walk into the heart of the market together. They take up the entire path and they’re _definitely_ annoying the other attendees but Prompto couldn’t care _one bit_.

\- - -

On Solstice Eve they gather in Noct’s apartment. Just the four of them, no other family, no other friends, just _them_.

Ignis cooks for the better part of the day, some of it for tomorrow’s celebrations but a lot of it for today. Prompto helps as best he can, chopping things and scrubbing dirty pans. When Ignis says there’s less than an hour left he sends Prompto off to set Noct’s often unused dining table.

Ignis had arranged a few pine garlands into a circle in the centre of the table and no matter how many times Prompto asks what’s going in the gap Ignis just won’t answer. So Prompto dutifully puts out two forks and two different glasses for everyone -

“I’m not drinking _wine_ ,” Noct complains.

Ignis sighs, “You can use it for soda.”

And then Prompto folds Iggy’s perfectly pressed napkins into the crowns he’d looked up how to make yesterday. He’d struggled through with an old dish towel for practice and it is _excessively_ easier with Iggy’s starched linens.

Ignis comes over as Prompto is lighting the candles, placing his hand gently on the small of Prompto’s back and making a happy, _satisfied_ , kind of noise.

“Beautiful,” Ignis says simply.

“Would be _better_ if I knew what the centre piece was supposed to be,” Prompto says pointedly.

Noct snorts from where he’s sneaking a taste of Iggy’s gravy.

“I’ll get it,” Gladio says and he moves past Ignis and Prompto into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with the cake stand holding their - _Prompto’s_ \- Solstice cake. He slots it into the available space on the table and stands back.

“Perfect,” Gladio says, “I’m _starving_ , grub soon?”

“Just a handful of minutes, faster if someone helps me serve,” Ignis says.

Prompto turns to go help but Gladio catches him and lifts him off his feet, depositing into _his_ chair at the dining table. Prompto’s forced to stare at the decorations on his cake, four cartoon like chocobos with red Holiday hats. Two are the same size, one black one bright yellow, then one _huge_ one in a rich chocolate brown and an in between size in a darker yellow that Prompto had painstakingly mixed to be _different_ from the smallest but not so far as to be orange. Prompto had made Noct another heart out of red fondant icing and the prince had eaten this one with relish.

Prompto feels his face warm, his slightly clumsy decorations pride of place at the centre of their celebration.

Noct joins him with the gravy jug, taking the seat to his left moments before Ignis and Gladio arrive with the first of the dishes, warm steam rising from the green beans and platter of roast potatoes.

“I didn’t know that you all did a big meal on Solstice Eve,” Prompto says aloud. It’s not _traditional_ , not here in Insomnia anyway. He’s sure it is elsewhere, but Prompto doesn’t know one person that celebrates in this way.

“We don’t,” Noct says, shifting the green beans towards Prompto.

Gladio drops an unexpected but entirely welcome kiss on the crown of his head as he makes his way back to the kitchen. Ignis squeezes his shoulder.

“We don’t,” Ignis echoes, “But we thought we could forge a new tradition, just for the four of us.”

“Oh,” Prompto says, feeling warm _everywhere_. His face, his chest, his belly.

“Thanks guys,” he all but whispers.

Noct sneaks his hand under the table to find Prompto’s fingers. He squeezes them in a way that shoots _I love you_ into Prompto’s very soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas everyone!  
> You can find me on Twitter at [@Ginger_El_](https://twitter.com/Ginger_El_) 💛


End file.
